


Soon After Christmas

by starespressos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Yuletide, after christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 15:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starespressos/pseuds/starespressos
Summary: Castiel has been in love with Dean for a while now. After Christmas, he accidentally tells him.





	Soon After Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Beta'd by zaphodsgirl. 
> 
> Inspired by Soon After Christmas by Stina Nordenstam. Listen to it. It's good angst.

Embers glowing in the fireplace paint a picture of clothes scattered all over the floor. Christmas lights on the tree blink on and off once more, as if to signal the surrounding lake that Christmas is officially over. Last call.

Castiel runs his fingers along the smooth edge of his phone before letting it _thud_ on the ground. The fireplace and his blanket combined do little to keep him warm, and he wraps his arms tighter around himself before pulling his legs up on the armchair.

It’s dark now; he can barely see the snowfall anymore. There’s no point in sitting here, in front of the window in his family cabin living room, for longer – and yet, he can’t bring himself to move. If he moves, everything happens. As long as he sits here and waits, anything is still possible.

This morning, the world was different. Despite it being one of the darkest days of the year, the sun was shining when Castiel met Dean at the market square. His best friend was in a good mood, obviously; he had just finished his final shift at a burger joint, received his money, and was ready to spend all of it on some post-Yuletide shopping. Dean was on his way to his parents’ place for a second Christmas dinner, but they wanted to buy groceries last, so they started with a walk around the market.

It was one of Castiel’s favorite things. Each year, people from all over the state came to sell their hand-crafted items at the town square Christmas Market. He loved to walk between the quaint stalls, taste-test delicacies, wrap himself in the scents of clove and peppermint, and buy trinkets. Recently, he’s done it together with Dean – after all, they’ve been friends from the first day of college.

Castiel didn’t mean to fall in love with Dean. At first, he was pretty sure he was in love with their friendship – late night movie marathons, dual reading of course materials and library books, doing assignments and projects for school together, ordering in, and even living together during a particularly unemployed part in Dean’s life. Soon enough, though, Castiel noticed his heart pick up pace whenever Dean brushed by him, or when he let his touch linger on Castiel’s shoulder for a second longer than necessary, or when their eyes met across the full lecture hall.

But they’d graduated, neither of them ever made a move, and finally Dean had called Castiel his best friend. Castiel didn’t want to ruin that; hell, Dean had been through a lot in his life and didn’t need to lose a friend over a crush. Eventually, Castiel had figured out Dean was a flirtatious person – and even though his attention made Castiel swoon, it didn’t mean anything. Dean acted the same with everyone, and soon, Castiel thought it better to not pay attention to Dean’s actions too much because the last thing he wanted to be was irrationally jealous.

It didn’t mean he could keep himself from falling a little harder each time Dean touched him, or looked at him, or bent over laughing at a dorky joke. Castiel was well aware the strength of his crush should be high school level at most, but here he was… Twenty-five, in love, and pining like a loser.

“Wow,” Dean said, mildly dubious, “what’s up with you? I can see you deflating more every second.”

“No, I’m just—Sorry,” Castiel said, shaking his head, “I was thinking about our friendship.”

“Deep,” Dean huffed. He looked like he wanted to ask further, but a stall of pretzels distracted him. It was alright; Castiel felt bad enough about lying as it was, and he’d much rather watch Dean sink his teeth into a hot treat. While still chewing, he pointed towards a stall with all sorts of handmade decorations and trinkets. Castiel rolled his eyes fondly and let himself be lead in.

Everything from miniature Aphrodite du Venus statues to oven mitts were placed on three large tables that circled the edges of a tent. It was warm and cozy inside, surprisingly so considering the low temperatures outside, and the warm light made the place feel almost sacred.

Dean was having none of it, though – instantly, he walked over to the knitted beanies and put one on. It had antlers on it, soft brown ones that looked a bit like…

“See, Cas,” Dean said proudly, “I’m a shithead.”

“Well,” Castiel hummed, “cannot argue there. That does look like shit.”

“Hello, boys. Can I help you?” an older lady said, coming up to them. Dean burst out laughing, and Castiel looked at her apologetically.

“We’re just looking, thanks,” he said, trying to keep his voice level to avoid her feeling ridiculed, “we’ll let you know if we need anything.”

She nodded and turned to look at the next people stepping into the tent. Dean was still laughing, and Castiel jabbed his side.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Wha-? Why?” he sighed, regaining control of himself, and turned towards the other beanies.

“Laughing at other people’s work counts as being a jerk. She’s probably done all of this herself, and needs credit.”

“Oh, she’s got my credit, alright,” Dean said happily and turned back to Castiel with a hairband on his hands. “Please, please, make my Christmas and put this on.”

Castiel frowned at the item -- bright red headband with a hard, sequin-wrapped present box sticking out of it on a spring. There’s a mistletoe, too, and some tiny ribbons and pieces of garland shooting in every direction. It was absolutely ridiculous, but Dean’s eyes were twinkling, and Castiel couldn’t have told him no even if he’d wanted to.

Not that he ever wanted to.

Dean bit his lower lip to keep himself from spinning towards another laughing fit, and he watched as Castiel put the damn thing on top of his head. He inhaled as if to say something, and then turned towards the lady.

“Hey, when you’re free, I’d like to purchase this.”

“Dean, what the hell?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, smirking, “you’re not spending another second without that on.”

“Are you kidding me?” Castiel scoffed, glancing into the mirror a bit to their left. “You’re not kidding me. Oh, my god.”

In the mirror, Castiel watched Dean exchange money with the lady. He was still smiling, eyes crinkling in the corners, and it made Castiel’s heart thump harder, louder. If Dean would be looking at Castiel like this – joy and admiration in his eyes like Castiel was somehow more important than he gave himself credit for – it was a bargain to keep the silly hairband on.

God, Castiel needed to vent to Charlie. It had only been three days since he last let her hear all of it, and like the true internet friend that she was, she listened. After initially telling Castiel to get a grip and just tell Dean how he felt, she had been amazingly understanding, and ready to listen to whatever seemingly random thing Castiel was currently loving in Dean. All she wanted in exchange was an invitation to their upcoming wedding because that, for her, was an obvious thing of the future. Charlie was the kind of friend Castiel felt blessed to have, and with her, he could at least dream about Dean out loud.

When they exited the warmth of the tent, Castiel took the hairband off. Dean immediately frowned, but instead of complaining, he changed the subject. “Right. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how would you feel about a cup of coffee at the carousel?”

Castiel laughed. “Yeah, we’ve totally been working enough to allow ourselves a break. Besides, aren’t you in a hurry?”

Something in Dean’s eyes flashed, and not for the first time during today, he almost said something before thinking better of it.

“Well, you’re right, as always. Look. I’ll leave you for a bit, there’s one more thing I need to snatch from the market before we go grocery shopping. And it might be for you. And I don’t want you to see it yet.”

“Leaving me in the cold. Just what I wanted for Christmas.”

Dean beamed at him and with one more apology, left. They had already been standing next to the carousel, so Castiel turned his attention to it; people of all ages were enjoying the crisp weather, the smallest children were screaming at the surprise turns of the teacup ride. Castiel let the mood of the people around him catch him, and even though he was spending tonight alone, he’d at least see his sister tomorrow.

Unwilling to venture into thoughts of his parents, Castiel picked up his phone. Dean had sent him a message of his face, apparently to further try and soothe Castiel’s mood. He laughed at the dorky expression Dean was making, and after sending him an eye-rolling emoji, he opened his earlier conversation with Charlie.

_How’s Christmas coming along?_

A clerk from the nearby stall hollered for Castiel to come over to taste their new hot chocolate with peppermint and chili, and since he had nothing better to do, he obliged. As soon as he had his hands on the cup, his phone vibrated with a message.

_What, you already dying there?_

And he was glad that Charlie was available, because he needed a quick outlet to his feelings for Dean. Not bothering to open the conversation but typing right there on the screen notification, he tried to keep it short – emphasis on _tried_.

 _I’m weak. We’re at the Christmas market, and we saw this dorky hairband, and I let him not only put it on me, but buy it. I couldn’t resist his smile, or the joy in his eyes, and I am in love with him and is it ever going to end? It’s never going to end, is it, and I wish I could just tell him to spend time with me because Sam left for Eileen’s place after Christmas Day and it’s not like Dean wants to hang with his parents either, and I miss him even when he’s right here and I miss him more when he’s gone. And I can’t ask for that, because we’re just friends, and it kills me_.

He felt oddly hollow after sending that message – there was a sense of finality in it. Brushing the thought aside, he finished his sample cocoa with gratitude and threw the cup into the recycle bin. When he turned again, he was met by Dean – phone in hand, trying to read Castiel’s face with scrutiny unlike never before, a deep frown on his face.

“Hey?” Castiel said, letting out a light chuckle that he hoped would ease the sudden tension. “What are y—”

“Is it true?”

Castiel glanced down at the phone in Dean’s hand. It was shaking. “Is what…?”

His stomach plummeted as it clicked. The message he’d read and answered to wasn’t from Charlie. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit –

“Dean, I…”

“Is it true?” he asked again, voice harsh, breath catching. Castiel couldn’t lie to his best friend even if he wanted to, and so, he just nodded. Dean stepped back and sighed a soft ‘ _fuck’_.

“I don’t… I never meant for you to –“

“To what? Find out? Please don’t say you never meant for me to find out.”

Castiel bit his lip. “Not like this. I would’ve told you eventually.”

Dean shook his head, took a step back, wiped the sides of his mouth with a brush of his hand, and sighed. He was unwilling to meet Castiel’s eyes, and it was confirmation enough to how he felt about this.

Castiel felt he couldn’t breathe. He stepped back as well. “Look, I should – I should go.”

As soon as he turned around to leave, Dean’s hand was on his shoulder. “Hey, uh. We should talk, right?”

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about. I made it all quite clear,apparently,” Castiel said, gesturing helplessly to the phone still in Dean’s free hand.

“Well, yeah, _you_ did,” Dean’s expression softened slightly, his eyes almost smiling, “but what happens now?”

Castiel shrugged helplessly. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve already overspoken.”

The treacherous phone started to ring, and Dean glanced down on it before grimacing. “Look, we’re on a schedule here. I need to get to my parents’, eat a shitload of leftover food. We need to talk about this when I’m not in a hurry and you’re not trying to run away. Can I come see you after? You still hang at the cabin, right?”

Castiel frowned. “I do. But I--  I’m not sure.” Suddenly, he was freezing, like all the light in the world had been sucked out of it  and he was spiraling into a cold, dark abyss. It would be a long day without knowing what Dean truly thinks.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice was soft, gentle, like in those nights they’d stayed up after all their friends had passed out, “we need to sort this out.”

“Sort this— Dean,” Castiel said, suddenly exasperated, “no. My feelings are not office supplies.”

“Of course not! I just need to talk with you, and I can’t right now, and _Cas_ ,” Dean sighed helplessly, “this might be a good thing, a _really fucking_ good thing, but we need to talk this through first.”

“I’m failing to see how this is good,” Castiel muttered. Something in Dean’s eyes made him want to stow his arguments, but he was sure it was wishful thinking that was distorting his view.

Dean glanced down at his phone when it started ringing again, and sighed. “Look, I should…”

Castiel shook his head. “Yeah, of course. You go. I’ll… Just go home, then.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Darkness occupied his mind again, so he spoke up before regret caught up with him.

“Will I lose you?”

Dean frowned – a deep, thoughtful thing. “What?”

“Will I lose you as a friend over this?”

“Cas,” he said, stepping closer and reaching out to squeeze his arm. “Nothing is gonna make you lose me as a friend. The only way for that to happen is if we become –“ He blushed and shook his head. “Later. We’ll talk about this later. Dinner is at four, I’ll be at your place at seven.”

 

Castiel walked back to his family cabin in a tornado of emotions. He didn’t want to read too much into this, but all signs pointed to where he was desperate for them to point. It was possible that after the biggest mistake he’s ever made in all his life he’s going to walk out of this year with Dean Winchester as his boyfriend.

The thought alone made his step bounce a little.

Then again, it could be something completely different. Dean could have _meant the only way for that to happen is if we come codependent of each other and run the flame of our friendship to the ground before it’s due,_ but having already lived with him during college, that hardly seemed like the case. Besides, it would hardly count as a _really, really good thing_ in Dean’s books – not that Castiel thought too highly of himself, but Dean had made it known Castiel was a welcome presence in his life.

He walked back, baked some gingerbread cookies and pumpkin pie -- because he knew Dean wanted to eat whenever he was in the mood for talking about feelings -- and fixed some drooping ornamental lights on top of the fireplace. When Dean texted _I’ll be leaving soon_ , Castiel popped the funky hairband on and sat down to wait.

It doesn’t matter.

None of it matters now.

It’s been four hours since Dean sent the message, and Castiel has called him enough times to know one more call is way too much. It feels like an eternity has passed since this morning and Castiel has become dust, an old relic of past times like a book found after hundreds of years. He’s been trying out his voice to know it still works; he’s been practicing the conversation he’s eventually going to have with Dean.

_I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, on Christmas of all times –_

_It’s okay, Cas. I just… I was leaving and then realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t come to you, I can’t ruin what we have. Besides, I wanted to hang out with cool people who aren’t weird around me._

Castiel rolls his eyes. Dean in his practice talks is always a lot meaner than in reality – but it’s hard for him to imagine what other reason than meanness he has for this behavior.

When around two hours had passed, Castiel thought something had happened to Dean, and for a while he was worried sick. Then, he remembered Sam was both Dean’s emergency contact and Castiel’s friend, and there was no way he wouldn’t have already found out. Knowing this didn’t keep him from checking local emergency alerts online, but that yielded no results.

So that’s that. Ninety-nine percent certainty that Dean wasn’t kept by an accident.

What’s going to happen now? Is Dean going to ignore him forever? Does Castiel have to move out and start a new life somewhere else? California sounds nice, although Castiel does like winter too much to leave the Northern states completely. A new start doesn’t sound half bad, to be honest.

He wraps himself a little tighter in his blanket and breathes in the scent of wool. The fire has reduced to embers now and soon, it’s going to get cold – the cabin has no electricity. Just last week, Dean was picking up a new batch of firewood with him, and now…

Had he known this was the outcome, he’d never have confessed his feelings. Sure, they happened to be yanked out of him before he considered himself ready, but he would’ve taken a not-enough friendship any day if the alternative was this. He’s tired of feeling cold, unwanted, and tired.

Wrapping himself tighter once more, he pushes up onto his feet. The ugly hairband is pressing painful imprints behind his ears and on a whim, he tosses it onto the rustic floor. The gesture immediately makes him feel bad, and he almost retrieves it from under the dining table where it ended up, but the echo of _he didn’t come he didn’t come he didn’t come_ fills his mind with a new certainty, and for a while he wants to stomp on the fucking thing until the glittery present no longer boinks.

Instead, he pushes a new log into the fire and sits in front of it, watching the flames eagerly lick on the sides of pale-colored wood. He’s almost thrown by the amount of resentment that clenches his diaphragm. Why the fuck does Dean think it’s alright for him to treat Castiel like this? Doesn’t he think he deserves better? These thoughts Castiel’s brain produces for him are alien; he’s always thought humbly of himself, and demanding things even in silent form seems self-absorbed. Then, he thinks about Dean and how Dean wouldn’t like him if he was self-absorbed.

But, no. That’s wrong. Dean has always liked him, no matter how he’s acted. He’s the one that’s been trying to tell Castiel that he’s worth more than he believes, and that the important people would stick around if he started to practice some healthy selfishness.

Another thing that’s too good about Dean. Damn him.

Castiel reaches around for another log to angrily throw in, but finds himself fresh out of firewood. Groaning out loud, he straightens his stiff body and throws on a woolen shirt and a scarf he received from Dean three years ago. Not thinking too much about how well it represents the guy – wrapping around him, providing warmth, impossible to let go of – Castiel pushes open the door and steps outside.

It’s almost a clear night. The weather is getting colder and colder, and little fragments of snowflakes swoosh in the wind, glittering until they hit Castiel’s face to melt away. The motion detector lights turn on as Castiel walks down the narrow path hidden by a layer of soft, untouched snow, and when he steps into the shed filled with ready-cut firewood, he’s almost sure he hears a sound unfamiliar to the silence of the woods. Straightening up, he listens until he’s sure nothing more is going to happen and proceeds to pack a basket full.

He’s not sure what he notices first; his door cracked open or the extra set of footprints in the snow, coming from the road. Squinting, he makes his way back to the cabin and only realizes after that he probably should’ve been afraid of the intruder.

Dean is standing in the middle of the room. He turns towards Castiel the second he steps over the threshold and takes a hesitant step towards him. Castiel fixes him the most murderous gaze he can gather right now, stopping Dean in his tracks.

“Cas—”

Castiel shakes his head. “Don’t ‘Cas’ me.”

Dean exhales sharply, lowering his gaze. Castiel can pinpoint the second he notices the hairband on the ground. He cringes. Castiel forces himself to move, walk past Dean and back to the fireplace, and he throws logs in knowing full well he should let them thaw first.

“You here to stand or talk? Actually, I don’t really care. You can leave.”

“There was an accident,” Dean says. His voice is careful, perfectly controlled.

“Like hell there was.”

“Will you let me talk?”

Castiel shakes his head, but finally twirls around on the stool, a frozen log still in his hand. Dean’s gaze lowers for a moment, but he collects himself impressively, considering.

“Can I have a seat?”

He gestures towards the armchair Castiel burrowed in most of the day, and after reading his expression, decides to sit on the floor instead.

“Apparently you’re going to talk. So go ahead. But there was no accident. I fucking checked. I thought something had happened, because I was childish enough to think that would be the only reason why you didn’t show.”

“Some shithead drove into the traffic light post at the crossroads of Main and Woolwich right before I left my parents’ house. They were still trying to make sense of it, and I was stuck in traffic for miles.”

Castiel clenches his jaw. “And you just didn’t bother calling.”

“I left my phone at my parents’ house.”

“Obviously. Today, of all days.”

Dean slinks closer, sliding on the polished wooden floor. “I was preoccupied with thoughts.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“Castiel,” Dean whispers, and it’s a rush because he never uses Castiel’s full name, never ever, “I am telling you the truth. You can check the the police blotter for the accident, I bet they have some data on it. Since… Since you’re good at checking shit, apparently. I really wanted to be here, and I hate that I’m this late, and I’m sorry.”

Castiel hates Dean. He hates that in two minutes, his bubble of anger is burst and he feels betrayed and deflated. He knows the words that escape his mouth next are unfair and unreasonable, but he can’t handle the sudden twist in his feelings.

“Well. I’m starting to get used to being disappointed when it comes to you.”

Dean is hurt, it’s plain on his face, but he’s the bigger man right now and slides closer again. “Cas. Did you mean what you said in that message?”

“You know I did.”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“What the fuck does it matter?”

“Cas, please.”

“I can’t even remember. It’s been a while.”

“Can I tell you a story?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and crosses his arms with a shrug. The fire crackles happily behind his back, warming it.

“Alright. I’m gonna take that as a yes, because I really want to get my point across here.” He huffs out a somewhat forced laugh and traces his fingertips on the floor with an absent smile. “One morning back when I was living with you, I woke up on the couch. You were already up, which you never are that early, and you were reading the newspaper and it was such a cliché: the sun was shining through the dirty window of your kitchen and you were turning pages and I watched you while you thought I was sleeping and thought – _wow, this is the kind of sight I want to wake up to each morning, and I want nothing more than to be awakened with your kiss, and I want this to go on forever._ But I had just gotten the burger joint job, and we’d been talking about me leaving, and you seemed relieved to have me out of your hair. So I swallowed it all. I refused to think about any of that. I didn’t want to bring you trouble.”

Castiel swallows and suddenly, the fire behind his back is too hot. He drops to the floor across from Dean, still a good couple feet away from him, and sighs.

“Why are you telling me this? “Of course, Cas. I… I’m sorry, I’m just so devastated by the possibility that a fucking traffic light is going to keep me from ever reaching you. I’m telling you this because I pushed all those feelings aside, and even though they tend to rise again whenever you’re particularly dorky or attractive, like when you’ve mastered the skill of eating single grains of rice with chopsticks or when you have a hairband on, I… I thought you’d be better off without knowing a lowlife like me has a thing for you. Our friendship is so fucking important to me, and to you, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Castiel notices himself scooting closer on instinct; the feeling burning in the back of his mind is quickly turning from anger to something completely different – a desire to hold, to have, to keep.

“Dean, I – That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking, and I gave up once, and then today happened and I had to give up again and-“

Dean’s eyes are warm, the way they are when Castiel is explaining his day in detail or when he’s fussing over baking, and Castiel knows, knows in the deepest parts of his heart and soul that Dean is telling him the truth. They look at each other, and in the way that can be only achieved through years of close friendship, exchange a lifetime of words by eye contact only. With a sigh that’s a lot happier than any of his earlier ones, Castiel slides himself over to Dean.

“I would, you know,” Dean says, only a whisper now, “very much love to pretend I came here when I promised, and told you your message was the best thing I received all Christmas, and ask if I could kiss you.”

“You need to pretend I still have the hairband on, and there’s warm pumpkin pie for you, and gingerbread cookies, and I would kiss you before you can finish your question.”

Dean blinks, and Castiel leans closer with a gentle smile. At the first touch of their lips, he’s sure he’s dreaming and he can’t get close enough – he grabs Dean’s jacket, slides his hand behind his neck and pulls him closer, and Dean tastes like apples and cinnamon and vanilla, and he feels like absolute heaven. He’s warm, he’s home, and he’s a cup of hot cocoa in that teacup ride they never went to.

Fuck it all. Fuck his anger, and Dean being late, and the Christmas lights that are no longer on. New Year is around the corner, and he’s ready to take it in with a bang.

 


End file.
